When he had first stepped out of the tavern that morning, he had nearly gagged on the powerful odor. It surrounded him wherever he turned, making his head hurt worse and his stomach turn somersaults. It only began to weaken after a couple of hours as his body became familiar with it, and he only noticed it when he and Thorne walked through a particularly thick-scented area. Thankfully, his hangover also was receding by that time.
The streets were not overly crowded, but Vaun still found it difficult to avoid bumping into people as he followed Thorne. Each jostle made his head pound with renewed pain and his stomach lurch. He swiftly decided he could do without drinking.
He saw many travelers besides himself bearing weapons and haggling with the myriad of merchants that dominated the squares. The volume of the sellers’ voices increased even more when a potential buyer stopped to inspect their wares. One such merchant nearly screamed at Vaun when the youth had stopped to look over some traveling equipment, the most common items being sold. The man’s foul breath and loud voice nearly caused Vaun to retch on the “rare and valuable items.” He swallowed deeply, however, and managed not to ruin the leather goods displayed before him.
Even though Landsby was a small town, it boasted some rare silks and rugs for sale at rather outrageous prices. Vaun guessed that the fame of the town’s horses brought enough people that even these costly items found buyers. The youth became curious to know from where all such merchandise came, and he hoped someday to be able to identify the origin of every item sold in any town he visited.
The young man did little more than aid in carrying everything Thorne bought. The dwarf purchased item after item, making Vaun wonder how it was all going to fit onto the horses. Thorne seemed to know his business, though. He moved rapidly from one stall to the next, carefully inspecting the merchandise before choosing the best and bargaining heatedly for a lower price. The dwarf seemed to be a good haggler, as he paid what price he wanted almost every time, and he instructed Vaun on the fine points of the art as well as a few other things as they continued their shopping.
Vaun found that the only things he tended to buy were various food items. He couldn’t seem to slacken his hunger, despite his earlier reluctance to even look at food, so he kept buying a piece of fruit, a wedge of cheese, or a meat pie to appease his constantly rumbling belly. To wash down what he devoured, he bought water or wine. Thanks to the headache that was only just now diminishing, he couldn’t bring himself to drink any more ale, ignoring Thorne’s claims that it was some of the best to be found. After a brief period, the cycle of eating would repeat itself, and Vaun wondered if food was going to be the only thing he ever bought. That was until they passed a stand selling better weapons than most others, and sharpening stones as well.
Vaun handed the three well-stuffed bags he carried to Thorne before inspecting the daggers and whetstones arrayed on the table. A yellow canvas awning stretched over four poles covered the stand, blocking out most of the sun’s blinding glare. Its bright color also helped dampen the heat, and the cool breeze blowing through it carried away the thick stench of horses and people.
The seller, spying a potentially easy buy, glided smoothly over to where Vaun stood. “And what will you be wanting?”
He was a portly, balding man with a broad face and a long black mustache. A large patch of pink skin above his left eye covered the front quarter of his head. He rubbed his hands together and played with the ends of his mustache as he waited for Vaun to choose something.
Vaun ignored the man, trying to imitate the way Thorne did it, and intently studied the dagger he’d picked up. It was larger than his throwing dagger, although it had good balance and could probably be thrown with some accuracy. He tested the edge, point, and make, finding all quite good. He wasn’t sure how he knew; he just did. He liked the small red stone embedded in the hilt best, though he doubted it was a real ruby. That would surely make the price go up, real or not, but Vaun was pleased with his selection. He looked up at the fat seller as he sheathed the dagger. “How much?”
The merchant paused, as if recognizing someone who knew what to look for in his weapons. But the gleam in his eye revealed he still assumed he could dupe someone so young. “Four silvers.”
Vaun was glad Thorne had explained the monetary system and the basic worth of things. It was a good knife, but the price the seller asked was easily twice its actual worth, even if the ruby was real. Quickly recovering his surprise, Vaun smiled amiably. “Noble sir, you misunderstood me. I merely want to purchase this one dagger, not a dozen.”
Thorne guffawed from behind him, amused at the gibe. Vaun ignored him as he tried to think of a more reasonable price; he decided to take the dwarf’s advice and start much lower than he was willing to pay. “I will give you one silver.”
The merchant looked surprised at Vaun’s brashness in naming a price so low, and his companion’s laughter was horribly inappropriate. He passed one pudgy hand over his mottled scalp and recovered his astonishment, determined not to be out-bargained by a mere youth. Archibald the Haggler never admitted defeat.
“One mere silver?” he moaned as if the world was ending. “You seek to rob an honest merchant. I could not part with it for less than three.”
Vaun was again surprised at the high price but remembered Thorne’s lessons. They start high, you start low, ’tis how the game begins. Frustrate him with a teasing remark, and you can easily triumph. He wondered if he could out-maneuver this obviously experienced merchant, and took a second to think of a strategic riposte. “’Tis a good dagger, indeed, but worth no more than a single silver.” He wondered if he’d managed to sound like Thorne.
The merchant wailed at the prospect of accepting such a modest sum, and inquired of passersby if they noticed how horribly this wretched young man tried to rob him. No one listened, and neither did they answer the man’s inquiry into what kind of dark, unforgiving conscience the youth had. He then named another price, only slightly lower, which Vaun countered again with his own complaint of being robbed.
After almost five minutes, Vaun managed to win the dagger and a whetstone for one silver and eleven copper pieces, just a few shy of its actual value but still more than the merchant had probably paid for it.
Thorne laughed loudly as they moved away, complementing Vaun’s bargaining skills. The seller’s moans of being cheated and concerns over Vaun’s conscience slowly died away in the hustle and bustle of the town. The dwarf clapped Vaun on the back, still shaking with mirth. “’Twas a fine piece of haggling for sure, lad. How’d you do it? You rival even Rush.”
Vaun shrugged. “It’s not that hard, really. I had a wonderful teacher on the subject.” He winked at Thorne, making him laugh again. “All it really takes is a little imagination,” he tapped his head, “which I have in abundance.”
They walked silently about the town for some time after that, until Thorne finally said, “You look as if you have something on your mind, lad. Do you wish to share it?”
“I was daydreaming mostly. But I also have questions I’d like answered.”
The dwarf moaned in mock frustration. “Stones! You never run out of them.” He grinned at Vaun. “But please, feel free to ask any questions you might have. I may no have Merdel’s wealth of knowledge, but I do know a thing or two other than bargaining. I promise to answer all questions as best I can.”
The youth smiled as a show of thanks for the dwarf’s offer and thought carefully. “The most important one I have is why I wasn’t told I look like a Swordsman.”
Thorne’s blue eyes blinked, and he started to ask where his comrade had learned this before Vaun winked. “I do remember a little bit about last night.”
Thorne smirked. “Even after all that ale you drank?”
Vaun winced at the remembered pain.
“No matter. You’d have found out sooner or later, either from us or someone else. If you haven’t noticed yet, people look at you as if you’re made of gold.”
Vaun g
lanced around quickly and saw that the dwarf was right. Many people eyed him carefully, but not quite suspiciously. Several just stood and stared, and more than one turned to look at him after he passed by. A few even gathered up their children and headed in the other direction.
Thorne nodded at Vaun’s inspection. “See what I mean? Swordsmen are rare enough that even the hint of one stirs up rumors faster than a dead body stirs up flies.”
Vaun made a face and had to swallow hard against the images evoked by Thorne’s statement.
“But to answer your question: ’twasn’t deliberate. We did no try to keep this from you. I just think you startled us into silence when you first put that sword on your back. Traditionally, only Swordsmen wear ’em that way.”
“That’s why all of you stared at me like you did that first day.”
The dwarf nodded. “Aye. None of us really wanted to keep anythin’ from you, Drath most of all. He felt that deception might scare you away and keep you from trustin’ us. So, he told you of the danger we all face, instead of simply tryin’ to convince you to come on some glorious quest for wealth and fame. That was Rush’s idea, but Merdel agreed with Drath and said that such trickery was unnecessary and inappropriate. He felt you were the best one to help us when he first saw you with his magic.
“Speakin’ of the wizard, if you still hold anythin’ against him for usin’ magic on you, I ask that you consider forgivin’ him. I know what he did was wrong, and I’d pound him for it if he gave me the chance. I think he did it ’cause he’s so desperate to stop Elak he’ll try anythin’ to give us an advantage. And, to argue his point, he didn’t compel you to come. He merely emphasized the truth of our words.” Thorne paused as if considering leaving out his next statement. “And besides, forgiveness is the one thing religious types like Merdel get right. While it doesn’t ignore or forget what someone does, forgiveness does preclude you from holdin’ a mistake against someone. The wizard is a man you can trust. Just remember he is a wizard, and wizards are relentless in their pursuit of what they want. Even to the point of bein’ stupid.”
Thorne shook his head. “I still can no believe the bearded fool knows Elak. Then again, I’ve had plenty of friends whose paths in life I wouldn’t approve of, either. Still, Merdel ’tis a good man, and a good friend. He always has the best of intentions, even though his actions may be a little shortsighted. I would hate to see you turn him away for makin’ that one mistake, for he has a lot he can teach you.”
Vaun nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t say whether or not he’d consider the dwarf’s request. He did believe, however, that if Thorne recommended he trust Merdel, then the wizard wasn’t all bad.
“‘Bout the sword, though.” Thorne grunted as he shifted the weight of the bags on his shoulders. “Since Swordsmen are the only ones who wear their swords on their backs, anyone seen with one not on his hip attracts a great deal of attention, as I believe you noticed. Whether true or not, such a man gets people talkin’.
“We decided that for you ’twas a coincidence of sorts. You’ve probably read books about men who wear swords on their backs and thought it a good idea. We did no mention the significance of it to you because we didn’t want you to start daydreamin’ of somethin’ so impossible. You are, after all, not from this world. That, and some few men are beginnin’ to wear their swords on their backs in some places now, which makes it not quite that big a deal.”
Vaun nodded again at the dwarf’s answer. “I think I would’ve done much the same. Like you said, why make me become anxious over something so improbable?”
“That’s the same thing Drath said.” Thorne walked in silence for a minute as they wove through the crowd. “What other questions do you have?”
Vaun shrugged. “They’re not really all that important. I only wanted to know where all this stuff comes from and the basic geography of the area.”
Thorne smiled, apparently on more familiar ground with this question. “I believe I can answer you best of all on that. I’m somethin’ of a traveler, so I can tell you where these things might come from.”
The broad dwarf deftly sidestepped a porter carrying a load far too big for his size. Surely the man couldn’t see where he was going. “Most of the travelin’ equipment is from here and is of the highest quality. The weapons look like they’re from the West. Landsbyans no make many weapons. I think that dagger you bought may be Ipekian, which means you paid much less than what it’s worth.”
That made Vaun smile with pride.
“The silks look like they’re from Mesch, a land far to the east. As best as I can tell, the rugs come from Tapis to the north. The weapons look to be from all over the world, with no seller specializin’ in one particular type. I was surprised to see the silks and rugs, for they are among the best. But the fame of Landsby’s horses brings many wealthy people, and travelers will buy almost anythin’.”
Vaun thought this statement could be applied to the dwarf but kept it to himself.
“The geography’s relatively simple. You’re in a place called the Midlands, which is between the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. No one really owns this area; it belongs mostly to the few nomadic tribes that wander it. ’Tis mostly grassland, so ’tis no good for much else besides breedin’ horses. It has become an unofficial boundary between the kingdoms, and prevents wars from occurring a lot more often than they do. The plateau where we entered is called The View. I think you can guess why.”
Vaun thought back to when they had first stepped into this world. He’d come through the portal in the desert onto a high plateau overlooking the entire region. For miles in every direction, rolling green hills had stretched out with occasional clumps of trees here and there, and what had looked like a forest darkened the horizon to the southwest. He remembered feeling as if he was freezing, since he had come from a desert in summer onto a high altitude in fall.
He’d seen a river, which Thorne had named as The Palanti, way off to his left, which was east. It was swiftly flowing and originated in the eastern portion of the Kalt Mountains to the north. The youth had then turned to study those cold, forbidding mountains on the horizon behind him. Even the memory made him shiver. Afterwards, the six of them had descended the plateau and journeyed south to slightly warmer weather.
The faraway look had not quite left Vaun’s eyes. “Aye, I can see why it’s called that.”
Vaun soon discovered that Thorne was something of an historian, as the dwarf continued to name places and tell of their past. He told of how travelers, crossing from beyond the Kalt Mountains, had settled the lands one by one. He said that no one ever crossed back, and the few who tried never returned. Many, particularly the northerners, believed this happened because the gods resided in those mountains. Thorne was quick to add that he and his more enlightened dwarven brethren didn’t fall in with this “Great God nonsense.” He also explained how the lands were further colonized and divided into various kingdoms all the way to the shores of the Endless Ocean, whose farther boundary was probably harder to reach than that of the Kalt Mountains. He then told of the wars that followed the settlements.
He said the First Great Alliance between the North and West had occurred nearly eight hundred years earlier. It was an unusual alliance between the two normally warring regions, but they had joined to take over the rich farmlands and lengthy coast of the South. There had been three such alliances, each one causing great suffering and loss of life. They were all turned back, despite the destruction of two of the South’s greatest cities. The first two Alliance wars had even involved Swordsmen. The first one had fought for the South, and the other for the Alliance forces during the Second Great Alliance.
The First Great Alliance failed the fastest, lasting only six years. Armies from the five Northern Kingdoms and four Western Kingdoms had swept down into the southern lands of Ramen, Bordell, and Tarquon to the east. A war of two fronts, the forces spread themselves so far apart they met an easy defeat. The invaders did, however, manage to
burn the wealthy city of Tarquon before they retreated. The flames, according to legend, reached so high that the warriors in Ramen could see them, and gave rise to one of the most common of oaths, “By the Fires of Tarquon.”
The Second Great Alliance, two hundred years later, was the most devastating. Having learned not to fight on two fronts, the northern and western armies invaded both Ramen and Bordell again, the strongest of the six Southern Kingdoms, and concentrated their efforts on the Fortress of Ramen. Rameners are renowned for toughness, and their swordsmen have no equal. Their city is built more like a fortress, hence its name, and had stood for over a thousand years.
Supposedly, it took over one hundred thousand warriors ten years to breach the walls, and they sacked and looted the city once inside. According to the stories, it was a Swordsman, the last one this world remembered, who was the first to enter the city. The town would not burn well, though, because most of it is stone.
Thinking they’d won, the Alliance forces moved further south, but a faction of fierce pikemen from Celene met them on the Ramen Plains and turned them back, though not before the enemy had destroyed many small towns and villages along the way.
Darim warships had sailed into the Great Western Ocean and landed on the coast of the western capital, Mahal. Marching almost without rest, the southern forces crossed to the city of Mahal in only a week and besieged it. To save their fabulous city, the westerners recalled their armies, and the northern forces were not willing to continue the invasion alone, so after twelve years the Second Great Alliance ended.
Vaun realized during the telling of this story that it had been the subject of the bard’s tale the night before, with a special emphasis on the “mighty Swordsman” who had conquered “invincible Ramen.” Pleased that he could identify the story now, and that he even remembered it, he listened intently as Thorne continued.
The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) Page 11
